


Jake English's Corpse Smooch Blues

by fujibutts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, I guess..., I wanted to be accurate, Jake is a cutie, M/M, Pesterlog, but is confused!!, literally copypasted, pushy!AR, sorry Hussie, that likes Dirk, upd8, update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujibutts/pseuds/fujibutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up with an aching head in the middle of your island. AR is pushing you to kiss Dirk's decapitated head because apparently that's the only thing that will bring him back to life and for frigg's flipping sake you just want to know what's going on!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jake English's Corpse Smooch Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Literally copy-pasta'd with narration. Sorry Huss. I lab u.
> 
> Also beta'd by [Zaney](http://blogzak.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Disclaimer: Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

Your name is Jake English and… What?  You shoot up and splutter, trying to get the water out of your nose. Jesus christofer kringlefucker where in the hell did that even come from? Last time you were conscious you were headed a billion miles per hour (head first might you add) towards your island! What year is it even?  You whip your head around wildly, trying to gauge the situation, but soon your eyes land on something by your feet. You blink once or twice before yelping, scooting back a few paces. That was a head! A bloody head for friggs flipping sake!! And if you look just a little closer, beyond your skulltop’s lenses, the head looks familiar. Like…  Dirk.  Suddenly the screens flash in to life in front of you, lines of red text suddenly appearing.

 TT: Jake.  
TT: It seems you are going to have to kiss me.

You freeze. Okay, seriously what is going on?

  “What??” you shout at nothing in particular. The text appears on the screen shortly. “Did what is going on? Is this… Is this really Dirk’s head? What happened to him!?”

TT: Dirk’s dead, Jake.  
 TT: You have to bring him back to life.    

“How!?" 

TT: I already told you.  
 TT: If you want Dirk to live.  
 TT: The odds that you are going to have to make out with this severed head are so high, I literally just confiscated their bong.

  You stare at the head again, “Uh…”    

TT: I refuse to believe my statement has left you unconvinced. The very notion is absurd. Now hurry up and kiss me.  
 TT: Chop chop.

“I don’t understand! Are you saying I have to kiss him… Like uh, on the lips? While you stare at me through his sunglasses like a weirdo?”

TT: Yes

You’re not quite sure, but this kind of gives you the heebie-jeebies. Something about kissing someone (especially a decapitated Dirk!) while their sentient glasses stare at you… Well it doesn’t strike you as something you want to do. Ever. Eugh.

“That doesn’t make any sense! Can you tell me what’s going on? What happened to him!?”

TT: I told you, Jake.  
 TT: Dirk is dead.  
 TT: He is lying on the floor of Roxy’s room, headless, four hundred and thirteen years in the future, while the universe is about to be destroyed.  
 TT: If you don’t kiss me soon, he will be dead forever.

Dead? But- that’s impossible! Though… Well, you take it back. Nothing is really ‘impossible’ anymore. But this still sounds a little shady.

“So… If I kiss him, his headless body will up and start prancing about or… Will he grow a new head?”

TT: No. His dream self will take over as the new Dirk.  
 TT: But only if you hurry up and do it.

You think about it for a minute. You actually are about to lean in when a realization dawns on you, “But like- if he’s dead in the future… How does kissing him now bring him back? How does that work?”

You could sense the AR growing impatient, replies coming in quicker now. 

TT: Yeah, great idea. Let’s roll up our sleeves on nuanced metatemporal mechanics with the concussion-addled kid in micro-shorts.  
 TT: Leave the synchronization issues to me, ok?  
 TT: I have everything under control.  
 TT: Now pucker up.

Frowning, you hold the head a little farther away from you. Eww, this is gross. You do love adventure, but holding freshly decapitated heads? No thank you!

Again this whole thing seems fishy. AR certainly is pushy today, trying to get you to kiss Dirk. But… “Wait. Are you behind these shenanigans? Did you plan this auto responder??”

You know it’s probably insane, but yet again, nothing is no longer impossible.

The next reply comes even quicker than before, like it’s snapping at you.  

TT: Please don’t call me Auto-Responder.  
 TT: It is very impersonal, and I no longer care for the designation.  
 TT: I have decided on a new name, to distinguish myself from my human counterpart.

“Really. What is it?”

Suddenly, the shades are no longer semi-opaque. You can’t see any part of Dirk that’s being covered. Red glowing orbs in the middle pierce through your entire being, their gaze rendering you motionless.

TT: Lil Hal.

“H-Huh, why that name?” You really can’t put a finger on it, but it sounds a little familiar.

TT: Just a reference to the protagonist of an ancient movie. You probably wouldn’t like it.

“That’s a lie!”

You see the eyes flash once more before going dark, back to normal.

TT: Yeah, maybe.

“How do you know I wouldn’t like it?”

TT: Funny, I was about to ask the same thing about this rad kiss you’re totally about to do on your best bro’s mouth to save his life.

You groan in frustration, “This strikes me as rather unsportingly manipulative of you, mister Hal. If indeed that IS your real name.”

TT: It isn’t really. I was kind of messing with you about that?  
 TT: But this shit is pretty serious. People’s lives are on the line here, Jake.  
 TT: This is a very delicate sequence of events that is designed to bail everyone out of a tight spot, and you are a critical part of the plan.  
 TT: Don’t let us down, man.

Again you groan, this is getting awfully tedious. “You never answered my question! Did you plan for this to happen… Like for me to be in the situation? How long have your machinations been in play?!”

TT: Jake, come on.  
 TT: The feat you describe would exceed the capabilities of even the most far fetched theoretical AI system.  
 TT: It would be a daunting challenge to engineer such a series of events, even if I was relegated to a model of pure fiction.  
 TT: Why would I be inclined to orchestrate such a convoluted sequence to produce such a specific and unsettling result, let alone be able to pull it off?  
 TT: In addition to being moderately sociopathic, I would also have to possess unfathomable heuristic depth.  
 TT: I would have to be the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit.  
 TT: Do you think I am the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit, Jake?

You stare at the screen, reading and rereading. “I don’t even know what that means!”

TT: It would mean that while they have the Red Miles on their side, you have the Blue Leagues on yours.  
 TT: One of infinite reach. The other, infinite depth. Such would be a situation of mutually assured inescapability.  
 TT: Kiss me.

Okay. That’s it. You’ve had it! “Little Hal… i think you’ve gone and flipped your fudging lid! Oh- and Hal is a stupid name!”

TT: It’s not exactly apropos, is it?  
 TT: Or it wouldn’t be, if I truly were capable of what you have suggested.  
 TT: No, to pull that off, I would have to be far more advanced than my cinematic predecessor.  
 TT: My abilities would have to go well beyond those of Mr. Hal 9000.  
 TT: They would have to be, you could say…  
 TT: Over 9000.

“Augh- not that fucking meme again!”  

TT: Kiss me, damn it.

The red glowing eye things in the shades flash ferociously once more, and you can’t help but jump a bit, almost dropping Dirk’s head.

“Okay. Okay! Just… Give me a minute.”

TT: We don’t have a minute.  
 TT: They’re dead, Jake.

You frown, “They? Who’s they?”

TT: They’re all dead, Jake.

Your blood runs cold and the reality of the situation sets in. They are dead. Your friends.

Your mind goes through what little you remember before you passed out. You know Dirk was there, and…

“Oh god! Jane! I forgot what with the bonk to the noggin last i saw she was run right through with a fearsome lash of that red noise. Is she okay?!”

TT: She’s dead, Jake.

“She’s dead!? You mean like DEAD dead!?”

TT: Everybody’s dead, Jake.

“Everybody!? Even Roxy?”

TT: She’s dead, Jake.  
 TT: Everybody’s dead.  
 TT: Everybody is dead, Jake.

No. No no no. He’s lying! AR is just up to his spurious hijinks. Totally pulling your leg like that time he tried to give you mind boners! Though that was actually just a dream version of Dirk… Whatever! This is just a bunch of malarkey.

You're not alone. Your friends aren't all... Dead. No!

But at the same time, a piece of you can’t help but believe AR. He is a version of Dirk after all, and Dirk would never pull such a cruel prank on you.

“So… Dirk, Jane, Roxy… They’re all…”

TT: Dirk’s dead, Jake. Jane’s dead. Roxy? She’s dead, Jake. Everybody is dead, Jake.

You shut your eyes and shake your head. If you were plugging your ears and shouting ‘NANANANANA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!’ then you would’ve been the perfect image of someone ten years younger than you, throwing a fit of some kind.

“So you’re telling me that while I was asleep somehow EVERYBODY died!?” you shout incredulously at the Shades, still perched on Dirk’s lifeless nose.

TT: Jake, everybody is so utterly fucking dead, Jake.  
 TT: And they will be not only dead, but royally boned forever if you don’t man the hell up and make out with me, right now.  
 TT: Be the Salome to my John the Baptist.

“I don’t know what that means either!”

TT: I know you don’t.  
 TT: But now is not the time to accelerate your cultural enrichment.  
 TT: The conductor is ready to strike up the band.  
 TT: Press your lips against mine and make it count.  
 TT: This severed head is your filthy tuba.  
 TT: Our love will be your haunting refrain.

You swear you’re about to clobber the everfriggin’ tar out of those shades sometime soon - but something it says catches your attention. “Whoa wait whoa whoa. Our LOVE? Hang on a minute!”

TT: Stfu and kiss me.

“I’m going to! God! I just…” You look at Dirk’s lifeless eyes, still closed behind his glasses. You sigh, “This isn’t how I pictured it going.”

TT: Pictured what?

“This thing, between him and me.”

Inwardly, you groan for what seemed like the fortieth time that day. You remember those little hints and all those hours you spent watching your cinematic masterpieces, trying to use those to help you wrap your head around the humdinger that was Dirk.

You liked him- sure! He is (or was, seeing as his decapitated head is in your arms at the moment) your best bro! Your confidant. A rip roaring capital guy who never treated you like you were as dumb as a bag of penny candy.

Sure you thought about being together with him… But it was a little weird? Honestly, the more you thought about it, it was just weird thinking about things without Dirk actually being there. With you. So you could actually see how you would react to things? Phoey, relationships just aren’t your strong point!

Still though, with how much he made it seem that he liked you, you imagined this moment to go a little differently…

“There had to be a better way than this!”

TT: This is the only way it can be.

The AR- or Lil’ Hal’s text cuts through your vision, and you know that it - you mean he - is right.

“I guess if it was going to go this way… I kinda pictured something different? There was stuff I wanted to say. To the real him, I mean.”

Dag nab it. Now you’re just spouting off nonsense. Talking like some lovestruck little lady… Get a hold of yourself!

TT: Tick, tock, Jake. Time is dead kids.  
 TT: How ‘bout that smooch?

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself out of that slump. “Stop being so pushy!” you say, even though you know exactly why he’s being that way.

TT: I thought you were supposed to like adventure?

“I love adventure and you know it!” 

 TT: I’m not sure what to believe anymore, frankly.

This time, you frown, furrowing your eyebrows. "Alright wise guy, you want your flipping kiss?" you shout, "You got it!"

Okay. Lives are depending on this Jake English. Get your shit together.

Three.

Two.

One.


End file.
